Cecity
by InkVirus
Summary: Harry was left with more than just a scar that night. As he discovers the world of magic he has to deal with the consequences of being made into a living horcrux; both the good and bad. Luckily he has a jovial old wizard to guide him through his treacherous journey.
1. Chapter 1

**Cecity**

 **Chapter One**

Harry sat silently in the darkness, resting cross legged on his bed in the tiny broom cupboard that was his bedroom. He was always in darkness, for as long back as he could remember. His earliest memories lay shrouded in it, as he stumbled through infancy. Now he spent his time waiting in the darkness of his abode, in preparation of the next day.

He was reminded of a spider, grown fat and lazy over the years, content to lie in its web and keep careful track of everything going on around it. His cupboard was the center of his web, its limits just reaching the edges of the Dursley's house.

He listened to his web and learned all of its rhythms. He learned to keep track of footsteps, to keep a mental marker for each individual in the house. Patterns that dictated their life became apparent, controlling individual actions that appeared random and sudden in the chaos of human choice, letting him predict his family's actions before they had even started moving. Sound, sound was the key. Often ignored in in place of the much more valued sight. Harry had no such luxury, and so he learned how important it was to listen. Harry learned much more from listening then he ever would have with his now absent vision.

He deciphered voices and gauged their footsteps, determining where people were going and what they were feeling. It was so easy to tell what they were thinking nowadays. They didn't seem to like that too much. Another demonstration of freakishness they agreed. His cupboard rattled with vibrations. Loud, thudding footsteps descended the step overhead before quickly turning and heading to his door. The pace was quick and the footsteps slammed into the ground with loud slaps. He was in a hurry tonight.

"Petunia and I are taking Dudley out to celebrate his birthday." The man started. "You are to stay in your room the whole time we are out. If we find any evidence of you using anything but the bathroom you won't get dinner tomorrow." The mere thought of Harry touching something of his seemed to disgust the man, and he seemed to be working himself up into a temper despite the fact that no such offense had happened yet.

"What about dinner tonight sir?" Harry asked, wishing he could go back to his previous solitude. He colored his tone with a sliver of childlike worry, but he held no hope that it would prove to be effective.

The man snorted as if affronted. "You should be thankful enough that we give you a place to stay. We aren't your bloody servants, we won't drop what we're doing and cook you a meal. Perhaps if Dudley is feeling generous he won't eat all of his second dinner. You might be able to finish it when we come home."

Harry rolled his eyes internally. The day Dudley didn't finish all of his food would be the day Harry became King of England. Honestly how could one person consume so much food in one day. He was sure he had never heard of seven square meals a day before despite it being a popular phrase in this household.

"Just don't go snooping for our food." The man blustered "We don't want to run up a huge electrical bill because the little freak couldn't tell that the fridge light was on."

Harry stiffened at the words. Just as quick as it came his anger seeped back away, down into the pit of his stomach.

"Daddy I'm hungry!" came the call from the main hall interrupting Vernon's rant. His glare never left Harry.

"Don't leave. Don't touch. Don't eat." Once more he was enveloped in darkness as the door swung short. As the heavy footsteps receded into the distance Harry slowly reined in the waves of anger emanating from his core, and submerged himself into an icy calm.

Harry had a brief respite before he was interrupted again by a burning lance of malice searing through his mind, a projection of such passionate hate it left a trail of broken thoughts and smoldering memories in its wake. Harry quickly left the cupboard, sinking his consciousness back into the depths of his mind. The lance's momentum had not lessened and it held strong as it blazed into his mind. Harry desperately backpedaled, leaving clusters of nonsensical daydreams and useless thoughts as fodder for the assault. The attack barreled through all of the mental debris and slammed into his hastily erected shields. The barrier proved useless as it shattered into shards that resounded painfully inside of his head. Pulses of agony traced the path between his temples and his eyes.

As he continued to use stalling tactics on the powerful onslaught, Harry focused on the periphery of his mind where he sensed enemy probes testing the path the mental spear had hacked through his defenses. He created a few floating mines, packages containing troubling puzzles and some of his more traumatic experiences disguised as important memories. He carefully released them out into the chaos of his mindscape where his opponent had been wreaking havoc on every available emotion, thought, or memory it could find hoping to disrupt them enough that he could dispel the attack.

A small nudge directed his attention to a probe that was testing his defenses. He swiftly and without hesitation severed its connection to its host and led it deeper into his mind. Harry was reminded of a cartoon he once saw when a character was led around by a carrot hung from a stick. The probe was baited deeper into what appeared to be his inner mind, never let to move too quickly, but fast enough to keep it interested in traveling through the passage he created. The probe got braver as its progress was not halted as it continued past his mental shields, assuming the original attack had disoriented Harry enough to miss its intrusion. When a second and third tendril tried to sneak into his mind they were immediately incinerated by a crushing wave of anger. The original scout paused at this but it was too late for it to turn back.

He blanketed it in a memory of him stealing some food from Petunia's garden and the rush of elation it gave him before jettisoning it out of his carefully constructed tunnel with no small amount of force. The rampaging fire in his mind quickly latched onto the fast moving memory sensing its positive association. It ate through the garden memory like an actual fire in Petunia's garden (she was awful at remembering to water them, and didn't let Harry do it after the previously mentioned incident) and reached the portion that contained a part of its own mind.

The sensation of incinerating one of one's own mental appendages is rather akin to waking up and thinking your arm was an intruder, but instead of moving it away you pour gasoline into your mouth, drop in a match, and attempt to chew off the offending limb.

The mental shriek reverberated through Harry's mind almost breaking his concentration on his shields. The incursion faltered and the lingering mental extensions lying just outside of his mind backed off as his adversary tried to collect themselves. He slammed his outer mental walls shut and put his shields in place. The tendrils came back quickly and tried to squeeze back in through the gaps in his mental defenses. He made another wall using a hazy memory of flashing green lights and intense fear. The gambit worked better than he could have hoped as the intruders backed off radiating a type of confusion. This allowed him to calm his overworking mind and sink into a more tranquil state, which in turn sealed off his mind with a shimmering wall of calm determination.

The main force was now stuck in a prison of Harry's making. With its access to its creator tenuous, and it still being disoriented in a pain filled daze from its earlier blunder Harry focused in on it. It suddenly moved, attempting to penetrate as deep as it could before dissipating. Harry tried his hardest to keep it contained, allowing it to wear itself away on his walls which prevented it from doing any real damage. All of a sudden the lances of pain that had previously beat against his cranium abated as the attacking force dove directly into one of his more powerful traps.

It became stuck in a clever little paradox that he had created on one of his days long meditations in between meals that had become frequent after the world went dark. Instead of pausing for a second and exiting the thought or thinking around it, the mental spear pushed forward with singular determination intent on burning through it with pure power of thought. The attack was twisted in circles on itself as it pushed through the paths the thought created. Harry poised ready at the exterior waiting him to break through, but it seemed content to keep circling inside the thought convinced it would work its way through eventually.

Finally realizing its situation, the attacker burst from the prison, but much weaker and robbed of all momentum. It fled wildly through his mind desperately trying to find an opening and led itself directly into another trap.

This trap was the most potent of any Harry had created over the years of mental warfare, and the first time that it had ever been activated. An emotion drawn from the past condensed into a single moment exploded into his adversary's mind as soon as he triggered the memory. A wave of crushing loneliness poured into the area, a sense of complete and utter solitude. Harry shared the emptiness of missing a single friend, family, or acquaintances and the soul crushing weight of having years of no human contact but insults. Harry poured the sense of hollowness into his mind, woven from the darkness he lived in.

The powerful emotion disoriented the attack and made it slowly unravel, leaving it vulnerable. Sensing their precarious hold on their mental probe start to falter, Harry's adversary drove the splinters of their force as deep as they could into Harry's mind before being completely forced from his mind. The last remnants of aggression sunk deep into his mind and his defenses proved little more than strainers, sifting out parts but letting most of the force through tiny cracks in his defenses. Exhausted by the battle and the powerful emotions he called upon Harry feebly swatted at the splinters with paper like barriers, slowing them down but being easily pierced.

A vibration resounded from his scar and Harry could feel a powerful well of energy gather behind it. When the mental shrapnel of the assault reached dangerously deep levels of Harry's psyche the scar retaliated. The ball of energy pushed from deep down in his core and exploded outwards like a supernova, expanding throughout his body and incinerating any remaining hostile particles. As quickly as it expanded the heat contracted back on itself, till it was nothing more than a throbbing in his scar.

Harry let out a sigh of relief and fell back against his bed. His head throbbed horribly and he could hear his heartbeat as it shoved blood past his temples. When he reached up to touch his face he found it was covered in blood. He traced his fingers carefully across his features finding the sources of the bleeding. It had slowed to a trickle out of his nose and ears, barely moving. His eyes still bled, red streams pouring down his face like tears. His scar tinged painfully and he hissed loudly when he touched it. It had split again and added its own tribute to the blood dripping off of his face.

He settled back in and went over the spoils of his efforts. He couldn't remember a time when there weren't attacks. They had become part of his routine. When he was younger he didn't know how to fight them. The mental spears pierced his brain and would have destroyed him but for his scar. Back then it was his scar versus the aggressor, after all of his recent memories had been destroyed and his emotions had been rearranged. He was able to provide a small amount of help, focusing with singular determination to gave his scar the edge, and it had always been successful in thwarting the assaults. He wasn't sure what his scar was but he knew it was powerful, and sometimes when he still maintained some of his focus through a battle he would notice startling similarities between it and the attacker.

As he got older he had learned more and more about the art of mental warfare, and was soon standing his ground against the attacks. However, as he got older and more skilled, so did his foe become more powerful. Every day they battled, always growing their power, always coming up with new strategies. Harry was always able to emerge victorious in the end because of the added edge of whatever was in his scar coming out and defending him whenever he was perilously close to failing.

Every weapon in the arsenal of a mental warrior consisted of something, whether it be an emotion or memory. Harry was often able to pluck some of these from his enemy's mind after quelling an attack. Glimpses into their past, faces of old acquaintances, rushes of powerful emotions, and slowly he pieced together a picture of his adversary. The image most frequent in his mental burglaries was of a massive castle, resonating with ancient history and filled with people performing marvels on a daily basis.

He also witnessed clips of a childhood not dissimilar to his own, a boy friendless and bullied, stuck in putrid nest of violence. He yearned for his own day when the old man would come and rescue him, drag him from his abyss and into a world of magic and adventure. Once he had asked Petunia about the castle and she had gone silent for complete minute before locking him in the cupboard for the rest of the day. He swore he had heard her crying outside the door. Hope had blossomed in his chest after Petunia's unintentional certification of its existence. He sunk his consciousness into the floating particles foreign to his mind, kept captive by his powerful shields. The sound of scales scraping against stone reverberated in his head. The scene quickly shifted and glowing lights streaked around him, shrapnel streaking past his ears. Screams pierced his eardrums, as the bodies in front of him writhed in agony.

Now he advanced through a doorway blasting everything out of his path.

He was late to class.

The man tried to stop him.

He knew the old man didn't trust him; he could feel his wary gaze following him about, laced with barbs of accusation.

A quick green flash and the man was removed from the earth.

As he sat down one of the girls near him sent him a wink.

The woman put up less fight than her husband.

She started following him as he left the classroom.

He advanced on the last living being in the building.

He went down the tunnel. She saw him. She mustn't know. No one can know.

Green eyes stared up at him.

 _Kill._

 _Kill._

Slowly and methodically Harry raised himself up into a sitting position on the bloody mattress. He felt rivulets of sweat trickle down his body gluing his shirt to his back. The cupboard was next to the furnace and had no air conditioning, creating sweltering temperatures inside hot enough to cook an egg. The house was silent. Harry listened careful for a few minutes but the peaceful silence continued uninterrupted. It was not uncommon for the Dursleys to stay out overnight without notice, deciding that not having to deal with him was a crucial part of a celebration.

Pulling himself into a standing position, Harry let out a deep sigh and sunk into an icy calm. His vision was still shrouded in an obsidian shroud, but faint outlines of his surroundings wavered in his mind. The world around him was displayed as vibrations in his mind, a phantom sense of what was around him. It was similar to the feeling of when someone is watching you from behind. You obviously didn't see the observer, but nevertheless you know they are there. When asked Harry couldn't tell you the color of the door or what pattern was engraved on it, but he could tell you exactly where it was and that it opened up into a hallway and exactly how many picture frames were on the left side.

Vernon hadn't bothered to lock the door again before he left, assuming Harry's blindness would prove an effective barrier to him leaving. Exiting the cramped prison, Harry was assaulted by some sort of large, agitated avian. It finally ceased its assault and perched on his shoulder, clenching painfully with its talons. A rustle of paper reached his ears and the sharp edge of an envelope poked into the side of his cheek. His hand grasped for a second before it finally closed on the package and pulled it from the talons holding it. He was given a quick bite on his ear before the bird took flight and soared off down the hallway.

The paper crinkled and opened with its own power, releasing a sheet of paper that stood hovering in front of his head. A monotone voice rang from the sheet, sounding as if it was talking from a distance and being squeezed through a small metal pole.

"Dear Mr. Potter, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.  
Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall (Deputy Headmistress)"

The paper spun in the air and started broadcasting from the opposite side. As Harry listened he realized that it was a supply list for a school year. "This is it!" He whispered to himself. He finally had gotten confirmation of the other world, the magical world he had dreamed of for years. The giddiness subsided momentarily as he came to a realization. 'The old man didn't come for me. Do they not do that anymore? How am I supposed to get robes and books?' He wondered. An image of a long street covered in garish displays appeared in his mind. An even scarier thought appeared in his mind. 'What if they don't know about my eyes. I can't write a letter and I don't have an owl. They won't let me into the school!' His breath got shorter and his chest heaved as the fear of losing this world so soon after gaining access gripped him.

His meltdown was interrupted when the letter started vibrating again. It started slowly revolving in place and he noticed an agitation of the air around it. He felt whispers of power wash against skin and he instinctively raised his shields. The tendrils wrapped around him but didn't attempt to enter his mind like the ones he was used to. Slowly they retracted back into the letter and it slowed its revolutions till it was still in the air in front of him.

"Grasp the paper tightly with both thumbs touching this face when you are willing to start." the metallic voice rang out at him. He quickly grabbed the sheet and pressed his thumbs into the paper. The magic returned and washed over his hands. "Name: Harry Potter. Status: Blind." There was a brief pause underscored by a whirring coming from the paper. "The chime signals the beginning of transcription. Say 'finish' when you are completed. Please state your response." There was a brief silence before the ring of a small bell sounded out.

"uh, hello Miss Headmistress." Harry stopped, feeling a bit ridiculous speaking to a piece of paper. "I accept the invitation but, uh, I don't know how to get the supplies for the school year. Could you send a teacher to come and show me how to get those things and how to get to the school? Sincerely Harry Potter. Finish." Another chime rang and the paper rolled itself up. The bird that had arrived with the letter flew back down the hallway, and snatched the letter out of Harry's hands. It made a startling quick turn and shot back past Harry, headed towards a window. The window burst open right before it was hit and the bird sailed out into the night.

Harry sunk back into his cupboard and laid down on his bloodstained mattress. Taking deep breaths, he calmed his racing heart. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would finally enter the world he had been dreaming about for years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Cecity**

 **Chapter Two**

If one was to walk down the street of Privet Drive, located in Little Whinging, you would be hard pressed to find yourself capable of sociable conversation regarding the surroundings. In fact, the town felt almost abnormal by how normal and completely unremarkable everything was, down to the duplicated boxy homes and the perfectly manicured lawns. You would expect to open any door and find a family reminiscent of an old television show. If one was to stop at number 4 Privet Drive and try to describe it, they might remark on how remarkably plain it was, or perhaps how neatly their garden was tended. If you asked someone inside Number 4 Privet Drive to describe their house they might use such descriptions as "The epicenter of an earthquake" or perhaps "Under assault from the whole bloody British army." These descriptions may have been influenced at the time, as it seemed one of their neighbors had mistaken the front door for their garage and was now trying to park in it. The banging from the door finally ceased and the swaying house calmed itself.

"Vernon what _was_ that?" One of the residents asked, her face pale as a sheet. In all fairness she was a particularly thin woman, so its effect was more pronounced on her than her other family who had the advantage of being biological anchors. Her question went unanswered as the sound of the doorknob shattering and the front door swinging open rang through the house. As they rushed into the main hall, the family was greeted by what appeared to be a bipedal bear that had just escaped from some sort of science lab, or so his great size would make you think. A pair of eyes appeared in the mass of hair upon his head and he leaned down so they could see his very much human face.

"Dursley?"

The response took a very long time in coming, as at first Vernon had mistaken the question for some sort of growl. "Yes, I am Vernon Dursley, and who are you to break into my house and destroy my door? I have half a mind to call the police this instant!"

"Good, I got the righ' house. Wouldn' want to go inter some other muggle's home. That woulda been a righ' mess to clean up, eh?" His face broke out into a wide smile and beamed at Vernon expectantly. Vernon's face grew redder and redder before adopting a rather unhealthy looking purple mottled look as he tried to puzzle through the statement and determine how grave an insult "muggle" was. The giant of a man continued, not noticing Vernon's ever increasing fury and deciding that the muggle was rather slow. "Is this little 'Arry then?" He asked as he bent down to observe the child hiding behind the two adults. The innocent seeming question finally snapped Vernon out of his rage induced trance by the sheer indignity the inquiry caused him.

"No it bloody well isn't! This is my son Dudley, and I would like you to kindly get the hell out of my house." His wife awoke from her own trance by her maternal instincts kicking in.

"Vernon! Don't use such foul language around little Dudders."

His glare quickly focused on her. "No! I won't have it Petunia. This man breaks into our house, damages our property, and all because of his unhealthy interest in our son who he calls the wrong name. I can say whatever the hell I want." Here he turns back to the invader in his home. "I want you at of my house right this instant or I'll call the police."

Hagrid turned and winced at the sight of the splintered door swinging loosely on crooked hinges. "Ah, well I am sorry 'bout that. Shoulda realized your door wasn't all charmed up like mine." Hagrid gave Vernon a wide grin and gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder, sending him toppling into the wall. "I'm real sorry about the mess, but if you could go fetch Harry? I've come to help him get ready for his first year at Hogwarts!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I already told you, his name is _Dudley_. Now get out of my house!" Vernon's response was met with a wave from the Giants hand.

"I'm not tha' stupid, Dursley. I dropped 'im off when he was a baby. I know he's here." The giants eyes that once twinkled merrily had frozen, and now glared down at the small man like small chips of obsidian.

A quiet gasp came from Petunia. "You're one of _them_. You want him to go to that awful school." The accusation seemed to bring Hagrid back to his old affable self.

"Tha's right. Harry's been down for Hogwarts since he was born. Both his parents went there you know." He seemed to completely forget his previous mood. That was spoiled almost immediately by Vernon, who didn't seem to understand self-preservation.

"He's not going. I don't want to send him off to some freak show so that he can learn magic tricks to torment my family with."

"It's not up te you. Harry is goin' to go to Hogwarts whether you like it or not. Now, tell me where Harry is." His threat was punctuated by the waving of a small pink umbrella. Deciding not to risk whatever the giant was going to do with an umbrella, Vernon motioned behind him and mumbled something.

"Wha' was that?"

"The broom cupboard."

Vernon was nearly knocked over as the giant rushed past him. The cupboard door was ripped off its hinges and cast carelessly to the ground. He was met by the overwhelming stench of sweat as it rushed out of the room. The lone occupant was curled up on a dirty mattress that took up the entire floor space the cupboard offered. He was carefully lifted out of the cramped space by arms as thick as his whole body.

The giant looked down on the small disheveled boy and let out a smile. He looked just like his dad. "'Ello there Harry, my name's Hagrid."

##

Harry was woken from his sleep by the sudden removal of his cupboard door. A massive pair of arms encircled him, and he felt himself carefully lifted from the small room and gently placed on two feet in front of the behemoth. Suddenly he spoke. Harry was stunned for a second, having not heard any other voice besides his families in years. The unfamiliarity created waves of excitement to wash down his back. Rubeus Hagrid. He knew that name. A glimpse of the castle appeared in his mind. His heart swelled in his chest.

"Are you from Hogwarts, Hagrid sir?" He inquired, barely holding in a gasp.

The giant of a man chuckled, a low rumbling pulse that Harry could feel reverberating in the air next to him. "I'm from Hogwarts alrigh'. No need for any 'sirs' now, just Hagrid will do for ye." Hagrid startled ruffling through his jacket, searching all of his pockets for some sort of lost item. Finally, he seemed to find what he was looking for. Slowly, he removed a slightly squashed looking rectangle and held it out towards the boy. "It's not much an' I may have sat on it on the way, but for wha' its worth, Happy Birthday Harry." Harry stared ahead in confusion for a few seconds before realization dawned on him. It was a cake, more specifically a birthday cake, but more importantly a birthday cake for him.

"T-thank you Hagrid." Harry gave him a weak smile. Hagrid once again remained ignorant towards the emotions of those opposite him and started stuffing the cake back into one of his many pockets.

"I'll hold onto it fer yeh, till you get a proper trunk to store it." Harry's murmured thanks almost went unheard. "Ah, don' worry abou' it." Hagrid waved his hand in front of him to ward of Harry's thanks. "Well, lets get going then."

"Are we going to Hogwarts?" Not even Hagrid could miss the wistful tone that colored the boys voice.

" 'Fraid not Harry. We'll be going to Diagon Alley to pick you up some school supplies. Wand and whatnot." At hearing they wouldn't be going to Hogwarts Harry had wilted, but he perked right back up at the mention of a wand."

"Will I be able to do magic with my wand.?"

Hagrid seemed to get a bit embarrassed at the question and shuffled a bit. "You won't learn any magic till you star' taking your classes up at Hogwarts, but it doesn' matter because you can't do any magic at home. Against the law, you know. Snap your wand in half if they find out." Here Hagrid unconsciously started fiddling with his umbrella.

"What if you're in danger and you need to use magic?"

"Well, I suppose it'll be alrigh' if its in self-defense." Harry heaved a sigh of relief. The pair left the hall and made their way past Harry's family. Vernon merely stared at the two, emanating pure rage that was only matched by the anger Petunia was radiating. Her ire was not aimed at a person, but rather the door and the castle of a school that lay behind it. Dudley sat behind his parents, gawking at Hagrid with absolutely no idea what was going on. As Hagrid squeezed through the doorway, Harry noticed that the door was not in its usual connected-to-the-wall spot and was now lying crumpled on the floor. Harry froze in the doorway. Hagrid took several giant steps down the path before realizing his charge hadn't moved. "Well c'mon then, gotta leave the house if you wanna get a wand."

"I..." Harry struggled to relay the enormity of what Hagrid was asking. For the past years he had been confined to the darkness of his mind and the confines of his cupboard. He had forgotten what it was like to be outside and feel the real air hit your face and had only experienced a pale mockery when he lived through memories he fought for. He hadn't left the house in years, and wasn't sure he wanted to change that. What if his pseudo-vision that enabled him to traverse the home stemmed from his already present familiarity of it before the incident. It was quite possible the world would be truly dark outside the boundaries of the Dursley residence. However, it was all proven moot when a meaty arm swept Harry out of the door and into the outside world.

##

So far his fears had been well founded. His basic perception of the world around him slowly deteriorated as they left the Dursley's till he could feel nothing around him, except for Hagrid's presence.

"Hagrid we have to go back. I can't see anything." Harry desperately turned towards the giant as anxiety twisted a knot in his chest. The longer he stayed in the dark the worse the feeling got. He felt as if he was being drawn in, a sense of drowning pervaded his senses as if he would be lost in it and never be able to crawl out.

"Ye get that from your father, no doubt. Blind as a bat he was, can't remember him being without his glasses. We'll get you a pair in Diagon Alley, they'll be sure to have some." Hagrid continued his progress despite the desperate child trying to push against him.

"No, no you don't understand. I _can't_ see. I-I'm blind."

"I'm telling you tha' all ye need is a good pair of glasses. There are other ways of fixing your eyes if ye don't like glasses. My old friend Moody got a whole magical eye put in his head. Really creepy tha' is though, don't think you wan' it done. Never looks at the same place as the other eye ye see, can even look through walls and the like." Hagrid let out an involuntary shiver at the memory.

"They can make whole eyes?" Harry questioned.

"Well, I suppose, but I should think tha' you'd rather just get some glasses. Anyway, we 'ave reached the edge of magical Britain."

The blurry smear of landscape suddenly focused and a large object not dissimilar from the Dursley's house became apparent to him. Hagrid led him through a door and the world exploded into life around him. The previous absence of visual information only emphasized the new surplus of images entering his mind. His momentary falter in the entrance to the building was due not only to the reinstatement of his vision but also the clarity of the pictures he was seeing. In the Dursley's home he understood only a brief outline of his surroundings coupled with a previous knowledge of the house that allowed him to navigate. Here in this new magical world he saw much more than small vibrations indicating where walls where. He knew that there was a man standing behind the bar a couple feet away from him, but he also knew how large that man was and what his haircut was. Harry stood frozen in the door frame, gazing in wonderment at all the people crowding in what he had figured out to be a pub of some sort.

Harry was pulled from his stupor by a voice calling to him from a table directly next to him. "Excuse me dear, would you mind shutting that door. That breeze is cutting right through my old cloak's warming charm." Harry instinctively closed the door and turned to the woman awaiting further instruction, an instinct drilled into him by years of fearful obedience. His face was brought into the flickering light of the torches fastened to the walls, and the woman gave a start of recognition. "Is it really you child?" She reached out gingerly, her fingers grasping for his face.

Harry took a quick step back and her hand wavered feebly in the air. "I don't think I am. I'm sorry." He replied with a forced smile.

"Yes, yes you are probably right. No one has seen him since he was a baby, it might be too much to ask that he'll just show up at the Cauldron someday. But I'm here every day always with hope that I'll meet him, and then I can say thank you."

"Who are you waiting for? If I ever meet them I'll tell them to come here." Harry offered.

"You'll have heard of him no doubt. Lower chance of you not have then my finding him. I'm waiting for our savior. The Boy Who Lived, little Harry Potter."

"How do you know my name?" It was out before Harry even understood what she had said. There was a momentary pause as he realized what she said and as she worked her way through his inadvertent confession. This time she moved quicker than Harry was able to respond, and his hair was pulled away from his forehead to reveal his scar.

"My heavens... it is you. I've finally found you!" The old witch seemed to find a well of energy as she leapt up from her table. She grasped his hands with both of hers and shook them vigorously. "Thank you Harry Potter, thank you. My boy was an auror you see. He died halfway through the war. That bastard tore through the protections like they were paper. Wasn't the crafter's fault really, nothing seemed to be able to stop him. Not till you. Just a year old and you stopped him right dead." She became choked with emotion and her speech trailed off into silence as she kept shaking his hand. The sudden outbreak of emotion in the previously placid pub drew the attention of the normally disinterested patrons.

A man who had been sitting at the table next to the old witches had apparently heard parts of the conversation and rose to address Harry. "Is it true? You're Harry Potter?" The man's question was backed with an unyielding steel gaze daring Harry to answer falsely.

"I-I guess I am. But I don't know of killing any evil people."

His answer prompted a mass rush, as all the members of the building closed in on him, all seemingly eager to shake his hand and offer profuse thanks for actions he couldn't remember. Hagrid was drawn from his conversation with the barkeep as he finally noticed the mass of people approaching Harry."

"Alrigh' that's enough. Give the poor boy some space." Hagrids large mass displaced most of the people as he waded into the crowd. Easily breaking through the front line, he got in front of Harry and used his body as a buffer. "We need to be headin' to Diagon Alley now, you've all had your chance to see him." Putting a hand on each of Harry's shoulders he pushed them through the crowd and into an alley behind the pub. Hagrid took out his umbrella and tapped on what appeared to be a random part of the wall. The previously solid wall rippled like water, extending from the point of Hagrid's umbrella. The bricks slowly slid apart, gliding back into the sides of the alley and revealing the spectacle behind them.

A wide street stretched out in front of them as far as Harry could sense, lined with bustling hubs of activity. He was pulled out into the crowd as Hagrid surged forward. "We'll be goin' to Gringotts first to pick up some galleons for yeh."

"What's a galleon?"

Hagrid's hand snapped up to his head. "Oh, tha's rights you lived with muggles. You probably have no clue about any o' this wizarding stuff. Well, a galleon is wizard money. There are 17 Sickles in a Galleon, and 29 Knuts in a Sickle. I don't know how much that is in muggle money."

"If everyone can do magic why do you need money?" Hagrid cocked his head to the side and remained silent for a few steps. Well, a few for Hagrid. This translated to quite a few for Harry. He used the break in conversation to try to observe as much as detail of the magical surroundings as he was permitted by his vision.

"Tha's a tough one. I'm sure you'll learn all abou' that at Hogwarts. Didn't quite finish my studies there you know, so I'm not the best to ask. I suppose that's why we need money. Not everybody knows everything. You may study for the rest of yer life but never learn how to make a broom. If yeh want a broom then you need to pay a fella who does know how. There are limits to yer magic. You can't always wave your wand and make everythin' better. For example, you can't make your own food. Not quite sure why, but I know tha' you can't." Harry nodded and accepted the explanation, before another question entered his mind.

"Why couldn't you use magic to make tons of money? Can't you can make copies of things?"

Hagrid frowned and looked away. "Never really thought of tha' before. I suppose there is something about 'em that means you can't copy more. Somethin' to do with them being goblin made."

"They're made by goblins? Goblin's are real?"

Hagrid chuckled at his exuberance. "Never met somebody so excited about goblins before. Nasty little creatures they are, not even I can like them." Harry decided to ignore whatever that meant. "The goblins run the wizarding bank. They produce all of the money and they store it all for wizards in their cave vaults. Extremely greedy creatures they are, kill their own parents for half a sickle. They hate wizards too, always having these big uprisings."

Harry turned a bit pale at this. "B-But we're going to a bank. Are they're going to be goblins?"

"O' lots. They control all the British vaults. They won't harm yeh, don't worry. Just don't expect a big welcome. They'll bear you being there just as long as it takes. Jus' don't waste their time."

Harry became aware of the looming building that was increasingly seeming like their intended destination. The massive building towered over the neighboring shops and cast a long shadow over the steps before it. Two minuscule figures stood at attention at the doorway, maintaining an air of indifference that was hampered by the glares they gave every human that entered the doors they guarded.

* * *

Harry stepped out onto the marble steps and swayed gently before finding purchase and continuing down the steps, stumbling like a drunkard. "I never did get used to that, and I never will. I hate that bloody cart. Yer da' though, he loved to come to Gringotts. 'Almost as good as a broom' he used to say." Hagrid followed behind Harry at a more sedate pace with a queasy look on his face.

"Do you have to do that every time you go to the bank?" Harry asked, giving the building a glare.

"As much as I don' like it, I still appreciate it. They keep our money locked up so tight in those caves that there hasn't been a person who stole a single knut from the goblins. I'll take that cart ride over having me money stolen." Harry nodded in agreement.

"Where are we going next?" Harry asked, the terrifying journey already forgotten in his excitement.

"Well, now we have to go get yer things fer school. Whatd'd ye want to get first? Yeh need books, robes, potion ingredients, yer wand, so-"

"Could we get the wand first? Please Hagrid."

"I s'ppose we could. Usually yeh get that last but it doesn't really matter. Off to Ollivander then." Harry set off with the giant quivering in excitement. He had dreamed of this moment for years. Soon he would have his magic wand and then everything could be fixed. His eyes would be healed and he would no longer wallow in a darkness.

The shop glowed like a beacon, illuminating the surrounding buildings with its blinding luminescence. As they entered the store Harry was greeted by the sight of rows upon rows of slim boxes stacked next to each other, lining the store walls and stretching far back into its depths. A slim figure detached itself from the shadows of the store and moved swiftly over to greet the customers. His face was far from the faint shadows Harry was accustomed to at the Dursleys. There was a bright sheen on his face clearly illuminating the smallest features on his face. He was by far the oldest man Harry had ever seen. The face was pockmarked by age, and unkempt white hair hovered over his wrinkled forehead. The eyes sunken deep into their sockets shone with an intelligent gleam revealing a quick and powerful intelligence.

"Why, Harry Potter if I'm not mistaken." The man paused as if to let Harry answer, though he doubted that it was really a question. Harry had an eerie feeling that the man knew who he was before he had seen his face. The eyes moved sharply in their sockets, scouring Harry's form with their gaze. Harry heard mumbled words leave his lips that sounded like measurements.

"'ello Ollivander. Came here to pick up Harry's wand." Ollivander's gaze tore itself away from Harry to peer up at the giant.

"Hmmm, oak, 16 inch was it not?"

"That it was." Once again Harry doubted that the old man needed confirmation.

"Clumsy thing that was, sooner smash a teacup than transfigure it. It had power though, real power. Pity they snapped it. I hate that practice, always breaking such magnificent pieces of work." Ollivander shook his head as he started rummaging around on some of the shelves lining the store.

"Potter, Potter, Potter. Born from eleven-inch mahogany and 10-and-a-quarter willow." Ollivander swung his hand haphazardly and rolls of measuring tape leapt from their positions and started wrapping around Harry. "No Ollivander wand is the same, and no wizard will ever receive the same results from another wizard's wand. So, Mr. Potter, what we are doing now is trying to find the wand that will work the best for you and only you. How about this one, beechwood and dragon heartstring? Nine inches, nice and flexible." Harry took the wand in his wand and waited for something to happen. After he a few seconds he began to feel a bit foolish.

"Don't just stand there Mr. Potter, give it a wave." Harry began a sweeping motion but the wand was snatched from his hand almost immediately by the storekeeper. "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches and whippy."

Once more the wand had barely moved before it was removed and another was stuck into his grasp. "No that's not it. No, no, not that either. Try ebony and unicorn hair, eight inches." Once more the waving of the wand produced no more results. Instead of getting frustrated the elderly man was becoming more and more excited. Harry however, was beginning to feel a bit nervous. A pit of fear began to grow in his stomach as the pile of wands that were rejected grew beside him.

"That would be interesting..." Ollivander mumbled before handing Harry another wand. "Holly and phoenix feather. Eleven inches, nice and supple."

As soon as his finger twisted around the grain of the wand Harry became aware of a deviation from the previous attempts. A tightness in his chest he was never aware of previously loosened, and a wave of warmth rocketed through his body. He became aware of it pooling behind his eyes and the ever present ache slowly receded into the background. As he moved his hand a wave of glowing red and gold sparks streamed from the tip of his wand illuminating the room. The pool of warmth behind his eyes was growing larger and larger, with its temperature mirroring its size. Suddenly, it crashed through his mental barriers like an eruption. Every obstacle he placed in the way was anticipated before he had fully created it. The attack burrowed deeper and deeper into his head before suddenly sharpening into a slim lance of power and slamming into the shields of Harry's scar. With a start he realized that his scar was the target of the attack.

The warmth entering his body had not stooped in its flood. The once comfortable, relaxing heat had turned into a roiling inferno burning up his insides. The current flowed into his body and traveled up into his head and into his scar. Whatever sentience occupied the mark refused to surrender. It fought back with bursts of icy power, driving off the encroaching energy. A slim band of intelligence broke off from the scar, flowing through its enemies like oil. It coiled through his body before entering his hand and pressing against the wand it was holding.

Despite the battle raging inside of him, Harry could feel the link form between his scar and the wand. Somehow there was a degree of familiarity between the two. He was still only halfway through his wave and Hagrid and Ollivander remained unaware of the conflict beside them. The scar pulsated with newfound power, and retaliated towards the heat. Waves of power crashed against each other, each one sending daggers of pain through Harry's head.

The trail of sparks grew larger and larger before morphing into a stream of scalding flames that rocketed out for twenty feet in front of Harry. His scar burst and a stream of blood poured down his forehead. His eyes were in agony, as more and more blistering heat grew behind them. Liquid pooled in his eyes and poured down his cheeks. Harry wasn't sure if they were tears or blood, or perhaps a mixture of both.

The conflict reached its zenith and both sides pushed against each other with all of their capacity. It felt like a bomb went off in his head, and Harry leaned back and let out a scream. His wand bucked and released a glowing beam of ruby that splashed against the roof of the store. The ceiling detonated and the trio were thrown off their feet as debris rained down.

Harry lay on the cool wood floor and watched as glowing bits of wreckage floating down to the floor. Having spent all of their effort, the two sides in his head quieted as he slipped into unconsciousness. Harry smiled in relief as he drifted off under the dancing orange glow of burning rubble. 'I'm a wizard.'


	3. Chapter 3

**Cecity**

 **Chapter Three**

Figures in lime green robes bustled around a motionless body lying on a small bed. Short, curt sentences broke the overhanging silence as the witches moved in perfect synchrony with each other. No movement was wasted as they moved around the bed, waving their wands. Waves of lights pulsated across the inert form of their patient, flickering indicators occasionally materializing from their wands. Amidst the movement a tall figure stood calm, a pillar that everyone moved around without noticing. Long blue robes reached down to his feet and were occasionally parted when an arm extended to hand a vial to a witch or to examine the results from a particular test. A small twisted nose reared out his face between a pair of cold brown eyes. His pale face was framed by long black hair, that reached down towards his shoulders. A woman not dressed in the green robes of the healers walked up behind him and whispered something in his ear. The man nodded once and turned on his heel to leave the room.

Icy blue eyes with their ever present twinkle stared at him from behind half-moon spectacles. "I hear Mr. Potter had a particularly explosive reaction to purchasing a new wand this afternoon."

The healer grimaced at the elderly man before turning to observe the patient through the window that conjoined the rooms. "He was brought in by procedure, he did more damage to Ollivander's shop than anything. I was brought in later when a mediwitch came across a rather startling discovery."

The twinkle went out of Albus's eye and his face lost its customary cheerfulness. "What did she find?" It was very quiet, but he could feel the steel underlying his tone.

"Well, he's blind sir. It appears he has been for quite some time. It wasn't listed in our records of his birth so I highly doubt he was born with it." Albus gave a sigh and turned to look into the room at the boy.

"I see. So you believe this happened when…"

"That night, yes sir. The details of the incident are murky, at best, but it seems the most likely cause. However, we noticed a basic connection system had replaced the damaged nerves, one we are almost certain was created by the boy's own magic. It seems to have formed its own network to replace the old one."

The old man's face grew curious and he turned to look at his companion. "This...new system. Will it fix the problems in his eye?"

"It's too late for even magic now. The nerves are too far gone and his magic has not replaced them completely. I don't think Mr. Potter will ever regain his sight." The old man's face still didn't reveal what he was thinking. He stood still, observing the boy in the other room with a careful, thoughtful stare.

He gave another sigh and turned back to the doorway where a healer had poked their head in. "Excuse me sirs, but can I borrow Mr. Bagley? We want to try a few more potions."

Albus turned away from both and looked into the operating room. "We had just finished speaking. I wish you luck Rowan." He was awarded a single nod before he became once more the sole inhabitant of the room.

Harry slowly rolled the sweet around in his mouth and almost winced from the sourness. "They take a while to get used to, but I have become quite partial to lemon drops." Harry had awoken to a room devoid of any furnishings except for a small chair next to his bed and the man sitting upon it. If Ollivander was a lantern than this man was like the sun, a powerful glow emanating from his body that surpassed anything Harry had seen before. Harry could look upon his wizened and wrinkled face and observe it in perfect detail. Unsure of himself he had simply stared at the man for a couple of minutes waiting for him to do something. Finally, the man opened his move to speak and had simply offered Harry a piece of candy.

"Where am I?" Harry asked around the piece of candy in his mouth. The man smiled genially and folded his arms back into his robes. "Currently you are residing in the spell damage ward of St. Mungo's Hospital. Luckily your little accident left you with only superficial wounds. Ollivander's store however suffered a bit of remodeling."

Harry's eyes widened as memories of the incident rushed back into place. "Hagrid and Mr. Ollivander... They're all right?"

The man's smile widened even more. "Luckily neither required any medical care – just a little bruised." Harry sighed in relief. "Let me introduce myself, my name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and I am the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In light of certain circumstances, I have become your temporary guardian and benefactor."

Harry frowned in thought. "What about the Dursleys?"

The grandfatherly smile that had beamed at him since his wakening faltered and pursed itself into a small grimace. "Well, the school year is starting soon and in consideration of your condition I deemed it best for you to stay here for the time being. Once the healers have determined you to be at full health you will be sent to Hogwarts"

"I... I won't be going back to the Dursleys?"

"Not till after this school year ends, at the earliest." Harry let out a sigh of relief and sunk back against the bed.

"Can I have another lemon drop?"

* * *

Snape stared down at the boy's form as he sorted the overflowing amount of potion vials and bottles that rested on the stand next to the hospital bed. The mediwizards had created a treatment plan for the boy that would span several months, mostly centered on forcing as many archaic concoctions they could find and produce down his throat. In a usual patient the case would be declared impossible and healers would replace his eyes. However, this was not an ordinary citizen, he was the Boy-Who-Lived, a beacon of hope and the largest celebrity in the country.

Snape moved around the bed to retrieve his cloak and was a bit disconcerted when the boy's sightless eyes followed him the whole way. He picked up the cloak and slowly slid a large item out of its inner pocket. "Are you familiar with Hogwarts?"

"Yes sir. It's a school where you learn how to do magic." The boy answered quickly and continued staring intently at the man.

"That is its general purpose yes, but you must understand that it matters even more than as an educational institute. Unlike muggles, wizards don't have any bodies of higher learning, and most children are taught by their parents till they are eligible to enter Hogwarts. Once you leave Hogwarts you start your career immediately. Therefore, your time at Hogwarts is crucial." He walked quickly to Harry's side and held out an item. "The school is divided into four houses based on your projected success in each."

Snape startled as Harry reached and grabbed the offering and held it before him. He ran his fingers over the object, noting its battered leathery texture. It seemed to be a hat, a rather large and pointed hat. "Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw." He whispered. It went unnoticed by Snape as he continued his speech.

"These will be the people you spend the next seven years eating, sleeping, and learning with. The bond of sharing a house often transcends Hogwarts and into your adult life. Normally you would be sorted at Hogwarts, but you have already missed the opening feast." Snape then stared at him expectantly till Harry slowly slid the hat on his head. The wide brim fell down his head and obscured his face.

"Hello Harry." A sudden coolness washed through his mind, easily bypassing all his defenses and swirled around in the center of his mind. What scared Harry even more than the alien presence was the fact that his scar had not reacted in the slightest. He desperately tried to format a defense but everything moved sluggishly, weighed down by a comforting calmness. "Don't worry Harry, I mean you no harm. Your defenses don't affect me once you willingly place me on your head."

"What are you?"

"I'm the sorting hat." Harry got the impression it would be smirking if he could see it. "I determine the house you stay in for your time at Hogwarts."

"Based on how successful I'll be?" Harry asked remembering what Snape said.

"Among other things." Harry felt it move around his mind, sliding right through his walls to inspect memories. "Hmm, how … _familiar_. Yes, you could do quite well in Slytherin, you would accomplish great things I am sure." Certain memories broke free from the hat's grip and flared into prominence in his mind.

' _Green and silver robes. A small badge glinting in his hand. A snake rearing in front of him, easily towering over. The man cowered in front of him, his handsome face contorted in a rictus of pain and fear as blood and tears streaked his face. A green flash.'_

"No … no, not Slytherin." Harry gasped to the hat.

'I had a feeling that you would say that. In that case you shall be in,' "Gryffindor!" the hat announced to Snape. The man quickly retrieved the hat and stuck it back into his cloak. He turned and stared at the boy intently. The gaze lingered for several seconds before his whole body jerked back and an expression of surprise crossed his face. "That's all for now Mr. Potter. Be sure to continue your potion regimen, we need you out of here as quickly as possible." With that the man swept out of the room.

* * *

Severus face twisted into a frown. "There is one thing I would like to ask you about the boy, sir." Dumbledore gave him a hand gesture to continue. "When I went to St. Mungos to have Potter sorted I attempted to use legilimency on him."

Dumbledore sighed. "You felt it." It was not a question.

"His mind... It felt like I flew a broom into the side of Hogwarts. I have never seen a mind so secure before. I don't think he even noticed me attempt to access it." Snape shook his head at the memory.

"I'm not sure what it means. He could have developed the skill naturally, I've heard of occlumens who are self-taught, but..."

"Could it be from the Dark Lord? Is it as we feared and he resides in the boy?" Snape eyes narrowed.

"It is most likely from his encounter with Voldemort, but I highly doubt he is possessed. What worries me is that every recorded self-taught occlumens developed the skill after repeated exposure to legilimency, some even unconsciously. Years ago I read an interesting journal from a wizard who served an ancient muggle king detailing how several of the king's court slowly developed the skill without even knowing he was entering their minds. Unfortunately, once his ability became useless the king had him burned at stake, which prevented him from documenting how far their ability could progress."

"You think someone is using legilimency on him on a regular basis?" Snape offered, eyes narrowing.

"I think that even though Voldemort hasn't possessed him, it doesn't mean he left him alone for the last 10 years."

* * *

Harry sat in a small chair in the Healer's office, the desk in front of him currently occupied by the headmaster of Hogwarts. It was the first time Harry had seen him since waking up and he was excited to learn more about his future in the magical world. "I'm afraid you're not going to be able to attend Hogwarts this year Harry. The Healers want you to stay for more treatment, and I'm inclined to follow their advice. Regaining your sight is much more important than anything else right now."

"It's really fine Professor, I can see well enough." Harry pleaded. Dumbledore frowned, something Harry had never seen him do. "What do you mean by that, my boy? According to the Healers you have lost almost all sight out of both eyes."

Harry shifted uncomfortable under his questioning gaze. "It's... it's not like it was before, but I'm not _blind_. Back at the Dursley's it was like I-I could _feel_ what was around me. I always just thought I remembered where everything was. But once I came here with Hagrid, it's like a light was turned on. I can feel so much more, I can even recognize faces. Sometimes it's almost like I have my old sight back!"

"When does it feel like that?"

"It's more of a _where._ It only happens in certain places, like here for instance. When I'm in a room with you it's like you're a lamp." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and processed this information.

"So you can see me right now?"

"Yes sir." Dumbledore slowly moved in the chair and watched as the boy's eyes tracked him perfectly the whole way.

"How remarkable! The Healers must learn about this; it may just cause a breakthrough!" Dumbledore exclaimed happily. Harry's heart slowly swelled with hope as he revealed his sight, before crumbling at the professor's words.

"Can't I go to Hogwarts now? You saw that I'm still able to see." Dumbledore gave him an empathetic smile before shaking his head.

"I still think it would be wise for you to remain in the hospital for now. As remarkable as it is we still don't know how your vision works or its limits. Perhaps there is something wrong with it that could prove detrimental in the future, something that could be fixed if the Healer's continued studying it. Perhaps you've already noticed some differences in it?

Harry looked away in realization. "I can't see color anymore. In Diagon Alley I could see shades of things but that's it."

Dumbledore smiled genially. "And perhaps the Healers could fix that. You said you felt more than you saw, perceiving more of physical outlines of objects. Than how would you read the school textbooks I wonder? Could you see the text, or would you merely see the page?" Harry lowered his head at the gentle reprimand. "I think it would be best for you to stay here for the time being. Even if I did allow you to go to Hogwarts this year then you would already be far behind the rest of the students. I do hope you understand why it would be better for you to abstain from your first year."

"I understand sir."

Harry grasped the wand in his tightly, slowly rolling it around his palm. The glowing warmth that had suffused him in Ollivander's shop no longer coursed through him as he held the wand. It felt dead, a simple inert piece of wood no more capable of destroying the ceiling then his pillow did. It had disheartened Dumbledore for perhaps six seconds, before he launched back into explanations of wand movements with more emphasis on pronunciations of syllables. "I confess I'm not entirely sure why this feather refuses to move. It couldn't be your form, I daresay you've got it hammered into you at this point. Perhaps the feather is weighted?"

"I've already told you why it doesn't work." Harry replied, his face already set in a mask of resignation.

"I've not ignored you Harry, its just–well frankly, I've never heard of such an occurrence happening before." Dumbledore admitted. "This spell has been taught in the first year charms class for decades. There have been very few who haven't been able to accomplish it, and all had a circumstance that explained for it. You must understand Harry that I am not insulting you, it is a fact that the levitation spell is the first spell learned because of its lack of necessary skill. It is a building block for students to build off of, because it requires almost no awareness of magic at all. In the later years' spells will require more skill, which is simply increasing ease of doing magic as your body becomes more used to manipulating it, a muscle memory of sorts. However, this spell requires almost none of that muscle memory, just enough would be provided from incidents of accidental magic in your childhood. You _shouldn't_ be able to feel the magic inside of you, as your body should direct its manipulation instead of it being a conscious action. Now we, and Mr. Ollivander, know very well that a lack of magical ability is emphatically not the problem. So it leads me to believe that the issue is something in this room. Hence the slanderous accusations against the feather."

"I'm sorry sir, but it feels wrong. The wand isn't like it was back at Mr. Ollivander's. Back then it was full of warmth and light..." Harry trailed off quietly.

"And now?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"It feels dead. Like I'm holding a branch of a tree." Dumbledore continued staring speculatively at him for a few seconds before letting out a long-suffering sigh and pocketing his wand.

"I do believe we have beat this topic to death today. Let's turn to a more muggle activity. I want you to carefully watch the position of my quill as I write and replicate it on your paper. Remember I don't want you to simply record the words, you need to understand them. There will be plenty of essay assignments once you go to Hogwarts."


	4. Chapter 4

**Cecity**

 **Chapter Four**

The rest of the year fell into a steady pattern for Harry. The majority of his days were spent in the hospital room, confined to hours of the Wizarding Wireless and private thought. Professor Dumbledore had determined that it was too risky for him to leave the hospital, for apparently his absence had raised an uproar in the Wizarding community. The country had waited for years for the appearance of their savior, shamelessly dramatizing stories of his childhood and pacified that he was being taken care of by those higher up. The Ministry, of course, was very insistent in taking guardianship over its most famous subject. Dumbledore was able to hold on to the boy through repeated promises and throwing some of his political clout around. Eventually they too were satisfied that The-Boy-Who-Lived was being taken proper care of.

His daily monotony was broken by the visits from the elderly wizard, who came in order to make sure Harry received as much of his first year of schooling as possible. He received a late birthday present from the Headmaster, a small, elegant quill that when pressed against parchment would be able to string the words into his mind in order to resemble a very odd and very slow form of reading. However, despite its inefficiency Harry took full advantage of its potential and spent many a day poring over his textbooks.

Dumbledore was delighted with his enthusiasm and often spent hours speaking to Harry about the lessons detailed inside the texts. Unfortunately, his zeal for the theory of his textbooks did not translate into application of the lessons. He could tell that even behind his cheerful exterior even Dumbledore was frustrated when the year entered March and Harry still couldn't produce a lick of magic from his wand.

Despite his lack of magical ability there was plenty of aspects of schooling that Harry had to be educated in. Years of missed schooling had to be made up, covering an assortment of subjects. Dumbledore had Harry writing an essay every day after he found that no organized style of writing had ever been taught to Harry. There was no break for Harry in his studies, even when the summer started and the other children had already left Hogwarts and gone back to their families. Then one day the monotony of his schedule was broken when the elderly Professor entered his room and waved away the offered paper.

"We'll have none of that today my boy! Do you not remember what today is?" He exclaimed happily as he sat down in the seat facing Harry.

"Wednesday?" Harry questioned, a quizzical look crossing his face.

"Indeed it is! However, this Wednesday holds a bit more importance than most Wednesdays. Not that other Wednesdays aren't important—in fact I rather like Wednesdays." Dumbledore agreed. "But this one happens to be your birthday, so is intrinsically a notch above all the other Wednesdays we have spent together." Harry couldn't help but smile at the jovial old man.

"I didn't even realize it sir. I've been so busy this year that it slipped my mind." Harry winced internally after speaking realizing what he said could be interpreted as criticism.

"I'm sorry if I have worked you a bit hard Harry, but I hope you understand that was necessary?"

"I understand sir." Harry murmured, abashed.

"That is a bit of what I am here to talk to you about. I have decided that you _will_ be attending Hogwarts for your second year. However, this comes with some caveats." Harry merely nodded, excitement building up in his chest. "Your condition seems to have reached a stage where it won't prevent you from receiving the full benefit of a Hogwarts education. It will still be difficult, and you will be behind the other students, but I believe you will be perfectly capable of managing it."

"What about my magic sir?" Harry asked, the 'or lack thereof' left dangling heavy behind his words.

"Do not let your recent struggles cloud your future Harry. You are a wizard, a rather spectacular one if I was to make a guess, and magic is as intrinsic a part of you as your blood. I have no doubt that we will make a breakthrough soon."

Harry envied Dumbledore's inexorable optimism. "Okay but even then, I'll have to go through part of the school year and I won't be able use magic at all. I won't be able to do anything in my classes; I'm going to be so far behind."

Dumbledore continued giving him a small smile. "Very well then. Perhaps you're right. Our attempts at stoking the fires of your magic continue to disappoint, and you trudge through the school year as a muggle. So, what then Harry? Do you not want to go to Hogwarts?"

"No! Not that Professor, I want to go," Harry fumbled to try and find words. "I — I'm just worried sir."

"Of course you are Harry, it's only natural. Yet what does worrying do for us? It will not give you your magic quicker nor will part the misty veil of the future and give you a prophetic solution. Your coursework is rival with any of your peers Harry — and for now that's all that you need. Practical work isn't graded till later years, and I believe wholeheartedly that you will be floating feathers expertly by that time."

Harry gave him a smile. "You're right Professor. As always."

Dumbledore laughed and winked. "I'm afraid that I'm right much less than I wish, and wrong more times than I would be willing to admit. But enough of that — we have a birthday to celebrate!" He reached into his robes and withdrew a huge bag that almost certainly couldn't have fit there. Harry hefted the bag into his lap and ripped open the top. A sweet, citrusy smell pervaded his nostrils. He reached in and drew out a small ovaloid candy and popped it into his mouth. He puckered his lips in a quick grimace before relaxing back into his seat with a smile on his face.

Dumbledore and Harry had apparated directly onto the platform an hour before Hogwarts Express was scheduled to depart. It was almost completely empty, populated by a few small groups of older students eager to catch up after the break and a couple of families determined not to be late. "This is where I leave you Harry." Dumbledore paused as they came up to the side of the gleaming train. "The Express will have you at Hogwarts this evening in time for the feast. Your belongings have already been moved to the Gryffindor Tower." He outstretched his arms and arms and gripped Harry's shoulders tightly. "Once you start at Hogwarts we won't be seeing as much of each other, but you will have other, perhaps better, teachers to help you. Of course, if you deem any problem out of their capability my office will always be open." Harry nodded silently. Dumbledore gave him a smile and squeezed his shoulders. Then Harry was alone in the platform.

He made his way onto the silent train and down the aisles navigating through a general sense of where the walls where. Harry made it to the farthest back compartment in the farthest car before encountering anyone else. As he opened the door to the compartment he was a bit startled to find another student who had actually got on the train an hour before the departure time. A very small girl with long blond hair was curled up on a seat, fully engrossed into a book she was currently holding sideways. She was like the others he had sign in Diagon Alley, brighter in his vision than any muggle. A witch. Harry paused in the door frame, unsure if he should try to make an escape, before the girl interrupted his thoughts. "I don't mind if you sit with me." She had a very light, lilting voice that sounded as if it struggled to travel the small distance and reach Harry. Harry felt caught in the doorway by her gaze and decided to make his way inside. Her bright, slightly bugged, eyes watched his entrance, and tracked him as he made his way to the seat opposite her. "My name is Luna," She stated to the compartment and with a satisfied nod turned back to the pages in front of her.

They sat in silence, Harry staring into nothing. After a few minutes she started rotating the object in her hands, that he had thought was a book, as if just noticing she wasn't holding it correctly. After a few rotations she settled on holding the book in a completely different orientation. Harry noted the movement with some confusion. "Are you holding that book sideways?"

Her gaze flicked up to him unnaturally quickly and stared at him for a few seconds before looking at the book in her hands. She turned the book around to see the cover and then looked back at Harry. She gave him a knowing smile and a knowing nod. "So it is." She continued smiling at him before turning back to her book.

Harry cleared his throat and made another attempt at conversation. "I was wondering why you're holding it that way."

"Oh, that's easy, I'm looking for clues."

"Clues?"

"Oh yes, Father and I are quite sure this book contains clues about the Understone conspiracy." She answered calmly, leaning in slightly as if imparting a great secret.

"The Understone conspiracy? What is that?" Harry asked feeling the slight need to lean in and whisper his question.

Luna looked around the room before pulling something spherical out from a bag and waving it around her head. "To make sure the Minister isn't listening." She confided to Harry in response to the bewildered expression on his face. "Anyway the Understone conspiracy was discovered by my father in a book written by the same author as this one. Apparently, the Minister of Magic has been growing a colony of giants in the secret catacombs under the Ministry of Magic, that were created by Merlin to hide until his third revival. Anyway the Minister commissioned this book with a hidden enchanted message that was designed to trick witches and wizards into lowering the enchantments around their homes for the giants. Then when the time comes he will unleash his giant army and conquer all of Britain." She finished her impressive speech with the same peaceful smile and bright gaze.

Harry looked back at her quizzically. "What's that book's title?"

" _1000 and 7 Uses for Barrenwort._ What better place to hide secrets then in a place no one would suspect?"

"Is that why you're reading the book sideways?" Harry guessed. "But I've never heard of a book being able to be read different ways."

"Well that's how everything is discovered. If we knew whether or not if it was there then it would have already been found, and therefore not a discovery." Harry had to submit to her point.

"Well anyway I want to hear more about this Understone thing, it sounds important. Why does the Minister want to take over Britain with an army of giants? Doesn't he already run the country?" She smiled widely at his request and started detailing how the minister was being controlled by an ancient wizard who was actually Merlin's fifth resurrection. This was how they were found in their compartment when the rest of the Hogwarts students made their way onto the train.

Harry had become so enthralled in the tales of the girl in whose compartment he shared that he didn't notice the swell of noise out in the halls beyond the room. Abruptly the door slid open and two new figures entered the compartment. Both appeared to be around Harry's age, a bushy haired girl leading the duo dragging a rather chubby boy behind her. "Do you mind if we sit with you?" Her question was as abrupt as her entry. Her face was slightly flustered and the boy behind her had his gaze fixed firmly on his feet, eyes downcast.

"Oh, do come in," Luna piped up sliding across the compartment into the seat next to Harry, opening up the other side for the new arrivals. Nodding her thanks, the girl slid into the seat, pulling the boy behind her.

"Hello, my name is Hermione and this is Neville." she moved an arm to indicate the boy next to her. Harry noted that Neville hadn't raised his gaze from the ground since entering the compartment. "I hope we're not bothering you too much. We had to leave our compartment due to some... unpleasantness."

"I'm Luna and its quite alright, I was just informing Harry about the Understone conspiracy." Luna assured her.

"How'd you know my name? I don't think I ever told you" Harry started. Luna reached up and brushed up the hair on his forehead revealing the raised pink edges of his scar.

"Don't be silly Harry, everyone knows what this means." Neville's head snapped up for the first time and focused intently on the scar. Hermione also leaned forward in an attempt to see it better. Surprisingly enough it was Neville who spoke first.

"Bloody hell, you're Harry Potter." He whispered almost in disbelief. He said nothing more but continued staring at the scar as if it would disappear as soon as he glanced away.

Hermione leaned forward intent on Harry. "You're _the_ Harry Potter? I've read all about you of course — you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and a few more books. Have you read the sections about yourself? I know I would."

Harry could almost feel her gaze bearing into him and squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. Luna cut in before he could answer. "Well, I think it would be pointless for Harry to read up on himself. What could they write about him that he doesn't already know?"

"Hm, I suppose that's true." Hermione conceded before turning her attention to Luna. "What was that Understone thing you were talking about earlier?"

"Ah well, I'm not sure if I can tell you, it's highly classified you see." Luna responded, slowly turning the book around in her hands. Hermione made a noncommittal noise in her throat.

"But you're still a student at Hogwarts, I highly doubt you're holding classified secrets."

Luna face screwed up slightly at this. "I learned it from my father." The statement had a rather strange note of finality breaking through her lilting tone. Hermione opened her mouth again as if to refute the credibility of Luna's father but Harry quickly cut in.

"It's about the minister's secret army of giants," He interceded quickly. Neville reacted to this, finally tearing his eyes away from Harry's scar.

"The minister has an army of giants?" His voice held a slightly panicked edge, as if one was going to appear in the room at any second.

"Of course he doesn't," Hermione answered sharply sending an incredulous glance at Luna. "Why on Earth would you think that?"

"We found it in a book," Luna answered succinctly, seemingly still a bit put off. Hermione shrugged and made a small noise in her throat.

"Well perhaps there _used_ to be one. None of the books I've read have mentioned anything about an army of giants. I could be wrong; I've only know about magic for a year— I'm the only one in my family who can do it." She apparently accepted a book as a more valid source than Luna's father. Any further conversation was interrupted by the compartment door being flung open and the entrance of three robed figures. At the front the group was a slender boy who strode in confidently, wand already spinning loosely in his hand. The two followers stepped in behind flanking him on each shoulder, each a rather intimidating figure.

"So this is where you scampered off to Granger," The leader sneered. "Did you really think I would let an insult like that slide?" His hand absently brushed against his neck, which appeared to be covered in some sort of raised bumps. Hermione merely glared back at him, while Neville seemed to try and sink back in on himself, as if his collar would keep him hidden from the intruders. The leader's sneer twisted into a smirk as he stepped forward once again. "You need to learn how to act around your betters, _mudblood_." His two supporters slid the door shut behind them and blocked it with their bodies. Harry had a brief flash of recognition, almost seeing Dudley in front of him instead of the slender boy. He knew where this was going.

"Did she tell you the Understone conspiracy wasn't real also?" Luna's voice suddenly quipped, seemingly unaware of the rising tension. The question made the boy pause and he seemed to take notice of Harry and Luna for the first time since entering the compartment.

"What are you talking about? What's an Understone?" Luna gave a huff and turned back to her book grumbling. It went unnoticed however as the boy's eyes were fixed on Harry's revealed scar.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" The question seemed to come off as more of a command. Harry simply nodded in affirmation. The two followers shifted noticeably at the reveal. The leader took a small step back not quite as sure of his position as before. "Ah. We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot, let me introduce myself. I'm Draco Malfoy, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle." He motioned to the two figures behind him. Harry was almost shocked at how quickly the boy shifted from snarling bully to impeccably polite and amiable. "I'm surprised it's taken this long to meet. Wizards like us should stay together." The statement was punctuated with a hand extended in an offer for a handshake. Harry slowly stood and shook the other boys hand. Draco gave him a nod and sent a glare at Hermione before turning and moving towards the door. He swept out the door as confident as he entered with his followers a step behind him.

"Stupid prat." Hermione spat after him. "I'm glad you were here Harry, otherwise that wouldn't have gone as smooth." Harry stared off at the door in confusion.

"Why did he leave as soon as he learned my name?"

"Are you serious?" Neville exclaimed. "You're Harry Potter, you killed You-Know-Who when you were a baby. People say you are going to be the most powerful wizard in the last century. We all grew up hearing about you, especially Malfoy I bet — almost got his father sent to Azkaban you know."

"How'd I almost send him to Azkaban?"

"Well, he was one of You-Know-Who's biggest supporters, and once he was gone Malfoy almost went with the rest of the Death Eaters." Harry recognized that name from his lessons with Dumbledore.

"So why isn't he in Azkaban?" Harry questioned.

Neville snorted and shook his head. "He claimed that he was held against his will."

"And that held up in court?" Hermione cut in, sounding scandalized. Neville responded with a shrug.

"I guess; I don't really know much about it."

A shrill scream rang through the train alerting the inhabitants that it was time for departure. Luna stood swiftly and made her way past Harry towards the door dragging her trunk behind her. Neville was not far behind her in his exit. Hermione lingered behind and waited quietly till harry stood and made his way towards his trunk. "Do you need help with that Harry?" She asked a bit hurried.

Harry shook his head with a grin. "I'll think I'll be fine, my trunk isn't that heavy." Hermione shuffled her feet but made no move towards exiting the compartment. Harry shook his head and reached back up to pull down his trunk.

"Are — are you sure? I'd be glad to help, really." She insisted again as his hand closed around the handle.

He turned around and completely faced her, arms dropping to his sides. "Why do you want to help so bad, I'm more than capable of lowering a trunk."

She shrugged seemingly unsure of what to say. "Its just you know — well, you're blind aren't you?" Her arms crossed over her chest as she waited for an answer.

Harry grimaced. "And I'm not helpless." With that he strode past the girl and out the open door.

Harry sat with Neville and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, and noted that no other students joined their group. Luckily that meant no one noticed his addition to the house. He watched in anticipation with the rest of the students as the Sorting hat was placed on each first year's head in turn. Soon Luna's name was called and she happily skipped up to the stool, not exhibiting any of the nervousness present in her peers. Just before the hat slipped over her brow and covered her eyes, her gaze met Harry's. He gave her smile and a nod that was returned with a small smile. The hat stayed silent for half a minute before the brim split open again.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry clapped loudly along with the rest of the table, beaming at the girl as she drifted over to the table. She sat down next to him and promptly pulled out her book and went back to poring over its pages for secret messages. As soon as the last new arrival scurried over to their cheering table, Dumbledore quickly addressed the hall and the empty dishes in front of them filled with various dishes.

Harry's concentration was focused entirely on devouring the plate in front of him until Hermione's voice cut in. "Harry, if you don't mind me asking, why _did_ you not come to Hogwarts last year? There was quite an uproar about it for a few weeks before Dumbledore made a statement about your safety."

"I—well Dumbledore decided it would be best if I stayed out of school for the first year in order to make sure everything was alright." She nodded with a knowing expression and went back to her meal.

"You know after last year not many people thought you were going to show up for this year, even though Dumbledore and the Ministry kept saying it. You were a myth to most of the students here as they grew up, so be prepared for quite a mess when people realize you're here. Most of the Slytherins should know by now, after Malfoy found out."

"And let me tell you, they do not look happy you're here," Neville cut in. "Not really surprising."

"While some of them may be particularly unpleasant," Harry had no doubts to whom she was referring, "and maybe some have parents who supported You-Know-Who, most are just kids like us." She turned to face Harry. "However— there is a bit of tension between our two houses. So just to be safe, be careful around them."

After dinner vanished off their plates, Harry followed Hermione and Neville back up to the dormitories, leaving Luna in the care of the prefect. Hermione kept hanging back slightly, taking a slower step just to assure herself that Harry hadn't fallen off the staircase to his death. She had seemed to take it upon herself to look after him, which was endearing in a way. After she had to pull Neville out of a missing step for a second time Harry wondered if it was her job to take care of all the less capable of Gryffindor.

They reached the top of the tower along with the rest of the house. Harry quickly clambered through the entrance and followed Neville up to their room. "You're a second year so I guess you'll be with us Harry." He nodded in response.

As they entered the room Harry noticed that three other boys had already arrived. They sat crowded around when bed, as they played some sort of game.

"Hey Neville." One called, and the others perked their heads up to give him a wave. "Hey who's this?" One of the boys stood up and made his way over to them. "Hey this is the second year dorms, you gotta go to the first year ones."

"Uh, Ron he's a second year. He just couldn't come last year I guess." Neville said.

Ron turned towards Harry with a surprised look on his face. "I've never heard of anyone transferring in late. What happened? I couldn't imagine waiting another year to come to Hogwarts."

"I had some problems. Dumbledore thought I should wait a year." Ron straightened at the name of the headmaster.

"Dumbledore? You met Dumbledore?"

"Well yeah, he came and gave me the lessons last year so I would stay caught up." Ron stayed silent for a seconds staring at Harry with some sort of awe.

"Bloody hell, that's wicked. I'm Ron Weasley." Harry shook the offered hand with a smile.

"Harry Potter."

"Are you really? Oh I can see the scar, you _are_ him. Here come meet the rest of the lads," Ron turned and ushered Harry to the bed where the other two boys still sat. "Hey guys look here. It's Harry Potter! You know what he was doing last year when everyone was wondering where he was? Getting taught by Albus bloody Dumbledore himself!" Harry smiled wide as they welcomed him into their circle.


	5. Chapter 5

**Cecity**

 **Chapter Five**

Harry was woefully unprepared for the amount of walking taking classes at Hogwarts entailed. He had spent years confined to the Dursley's home, mainly his extremely tiny cupboard, his sight keeping him from leaving the house. He had also spent the last year in a small, albeit bigger than he was used to, hospital room in St. Mungos not allowed to leave for 'security reasons'. However here in Hogwarts it seemed he had to walk a couple dozen flights of stairs and navigate the maze of hallways to get in between each class. The classes themselves were each similar but also very different in his private tutoring from Dumbledore. Each teacher taught in a different way and emphasized different points, yet the theory they were learning was the same. Unfortunately, some of these classes contained practical applications of magical abilities, something he was still unable to perform. His professors, previously informed of the situation by Dumbledore, didn't press the issue whenever Harry was failing to cast a spell. He was often given extra leeway when it came to assignments as well, as reading the assigned textbooks often took him many times as much time as the others and writing an essay exceeded even that.

When his presence became known to the school at large it caused quite a commotion. At the table in the Great Hall members of all the houses would try to sit near him eager to meet his celebrity. Eyes followed him reverently in the hallways and looked at him expectantly in the classroom. It didn't take long before the hushed whispers and awed glances devolved into piteous looks and muffled snickers as weeks passed. The legendary Boy-Who-Lived's mythical image transformed into that of the blind orphan, who can't do the simplest of spells. The expected magical prodigy who seemed for all intents and purposes, a squib.

The Slytherins became especially invidious, the whole house brimming with snickers when he walked by. More and more often they would start confrontations, leading with taunts and insults trying to get under his skin. Malfoy, seemingly trying to make up for backing down on the train, often led these attacks with gusto.

Hermione seemed determined that she could help fix his spell casting. Despite his repeated protests and denials of need, she refused to let it go. She made sure to always sit next to him and give constant reminder and tips as she performed each spell effortlessly. It annoyed him to no end.

" _Engorgio!_ " Hermione gave a slight rotation of the wand and the quill slowly swelled up until it obscured most of the desk. Harry studiously ignored her quill and focused on his own.

" _Engorgio!"_ The quill stayed exactly the same and it didn't escape Hermione's notice.

"Hmm that was a good try, maybe make your wand movement a bit rounder—like this." Once again she demonstrated a perfect instance of casting the charm. "It's rather hard to explain, can I guide you through it?" Before she finished the question her hand closed around his and started moving it. With a snarl he wrenched his arm free.

"I don't need help," He turned and focused back on the quill. He knew he was doing it right, just as he had at St. Mungos with Dumbledore. She couldn't help him with this, especially if Dumbledore couldn't.

"There's no need to be so stubborn about it. You clearly do need help and we both know it. Now why don't you let me guide you through it, maybe you didn't see Professor McGonagall's wand motion very clearly." And there it was. Even though he had showcased on multiple occasions that his vision still worked on some level, everyone assumed he was as helpless as a small child. The fact that he seemed to be a squib didn't help it any.

"Please just focus on your own quill Hermione."

"Look though, I've already got mine at an acceptable level. I'm sure if we keep working it at then we can figure it out." He had accidentally blown up an entire shop when he first grabbed his wand yet he might as well have picked up a twig from the side of the road for as much good it did since. She picked up her massive feather, shrunk it, and then with another wave of her wand increased its size four times over. All while looking at him.

"Hermione there is no we. I don't need your help. Focus on your own quill and leave me alone." The statement was not particularly harsh, to Harry especially after growing up with a certain Dudley Dursley. Yet it seemed to have a profound effect on Hermione, her once eager eyes locked on his face before slowly turning back to her desk quietly.

"Ah Miss Granger wonderful work!" Professor Flitwick had finally reached their area, a very diminutive man who was beloved by his students for his magical expertise and his jovial nature. The usual eager to please Hermione barely responded to the Professor, giving him a quick smile before stuffing the quill in her bag. As soon as the class was over she rushed out of the room first, subtly wiping her eyes. Harry packed slowly, a pit forming in his stomach. He knew she was only trying to help. He would apologize at dinner, and make sure she knew that all the frustration he felt wasn't about her.

"Luna have you seen Hermione anywhere?" The small blond girl looked up from her meal and glanced at him bemusedly.

"Why yes I have seen her in quite a few places. It would be pretty hard to know her without seeing her. I've seen her in the Hogwarts Express, I've seen her in the common room, why, I've even seen her at this table."

"I meant since after lunch. We both got a bit upset in Charms today and I want to make sure she's alright."

Luna twisted her mouth in thought. "Well I don't think I've seen her today, but I did hear about some of the girls in your year talking about her. Something about a bathroom. An odd topic to discuss really, I thought they're much more interesting things at Hogwarts to talk about. The new sightings of blibbering humdingers for instance."

"Who made the sightings?" Harry asked already knowing the answer.

"Me of course, I'm the only one who looks out for them. They can look like anything you know. Why I passed one pretending to be a bench just yesterday on the way to potions." Harry couldn't help smiling at her. He shook his head and made his way down the table towards another group of Gryffindor second years. He tapped on one the shoulder and waited for her to turn around. Her name was Lavender he believed.

"Oh, hi Harry. Can I help you?" He gritted his teeth at the tone. It was a combination of bored and kind that resembled that of a child whose parents forced to be nice to the weird kid who had recently faced a tragedy. Not an example he was unfamiliar with.

"I haven't seen Hermione since Charms. Do you know where she is by any chance?"

She gave her friends a smirk that she clearly thought he would be unable to see. "Well, last I knew she was in the girl's bathrooms. She was in a bit of a state after your little row."

All conversation was interrupted by the doors of the Hall swinging open to admit a pale, terrified Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Professor Quirrel took a few steps into the hall before addressing the collected student body and faculty. "Troll—Troll in the dungeons." With his piece said the man finally slipped over into a faint. The hall quickly descended into pandemonium. The professor immediately rose to their feet wands waving and voices rising over the students. A resounding crack sounded throughout the hall as Dumbledore slowly rose to his feet, wand held steady above him.

"Prefects lead your houses back to their dormitories!" Dumbledore rumbled. His voice boomed throughout the hall instantly mobilizing the students. The prefects started herding their charges together, and pushing them out of the doors towards their respective living quarters. Harry stood paralyzed amidst the panic, frozen in shock. A few members of his year hurried past him towards the exit. One of them stopped and grabbed his shoulder.

"C'mon Harry mate, we gotta get back to the dormitory." Harry shrugged the hand off his shoulder.

"Hermione doesn't know about the troll!" He brushed past the other boy and ran out the doors to the hall. His footsteps rang hollowly through the empty halls as he sprinted through the stone passages. The clamor of the other students slowly faded in the background till all he could hear was the pounding of his heart and the rapid gasps of his breath.

As he neared the dungeons a noxious, foul smell reached his nostrils nearly causing him to trip. The stench of rotten eggs permeated the lower hallways, getting ever more pungent as he neared the bathroom. As he rounded the corner it was suddenly in front of him. Its massive shape was emphasized by smaller hallway, its head an arm's length from the ceiling. Two large ears stood out on its disproportionately small head. They slowly twitched in different directions as he continued forward, each step creating thundering footfalls. He watched as it paused outside the entrance to the girl's bathroom. It raised its head and angled an ear towards the room. With a grunt it swung the enormous club directly into the doors. They shattered with the impact, wood splinters flying wildly into the hallway. The troll grunted and reached forward with its other hand. It had closed around the remains of the door and slowly starting pulling. The air was filled with a tearing noise as, arm bulging, the troll ripped its arm back, completely removing the door. It carelessly threw the broken door aside and stooped its head to fit under the broken door way.

Harry watched as its massive form slowly retreated back into the bathroom. He stood paralyzed in the hallway, heart pumping rapidly in his chest. A scream ripped through the halls, tearing Harry from his shock and he spun back towards the bathroom. "Hermione..."

His body moved without conscious thought, sprinting towards the torn entrance, wand held ready in his hand. As he entered the small room the scent of troll doubled in intensity, amplified by the rooms confines. However, he was distracted by the sight of the small figure huddled in the corner of the room with a monstrous form looming over it. The troll slowly raised an arm, holding its club high enough that it brushed the ceiling. Once again Harry found himself sprinting forward, determined to do something, anything to save the girl. He skidded around the troll's tree-like legs and grasped Hermione's arms, pulling them from her tear-stained face. She had only enough to look up and see him, eyes widening in surprise, before the massive club completed its arc smashing Harry away from her. He rocketed through the air busting through the flimsy stall doors and finally impacted against the solid stone wall. Harry slid to the ground next to the toilet in a daze. All vision had left him, leaving a black expanse highlighted by bright streaks of color that danced in his mind. His side burned, as if set on fire and his legs refused to get back under him. A loud ringing permeated his hearing, muffled movements outside the stall barely detectable.

His head swayed loosely before toppling onto the toilet seat. His eyelids flicked rapidly as he gasped for breath, great rasping echoes rattling in his head. The stalls side panels exploded in a burst of noise, showering his prone form with debris. A large board blown out of the stall slammed his head back into the wall. The tile cracked and dust showered over his shoulders. The ringing in his ears returned twofold. His ribs cracked painful and his stomach lurched painfully. Harry's head flopped bonelessly backwards, arms swinging in the air.

"It picked me up." The thought barely registered before he was released again, launched across the room. He hit the floor and continued sliding for another second before his back impacted hard against the wall. A muffled squeak sounded near him and was quickly replaced by sobs. "Hermione." He rasped out in the direction of the noise. A reached out slowly before grasping the fabric of cloak. He quickly yanked on it bringing her down to him. "Hermione. Get out of here. Now." Unable to tell if she heard him, he shoved her in the direction where he remembered the entrance being.

He slowly stood up as he heard the rustle of cloth as she ran towards the doors. He heard the troll shift its weight and a loud sniff echoed in the bathroom. A powerful impact shook the floor beneath him as he heard the troll turn towards the exit. "Oh no you don't you bastard." Harry swore as he started forward shakily. He broke into a limping run yelling a wordless cry at the beast. His forward charge was rebuffed soundly as he ran directly into what felt like a tree trunk. Harry bounced of the limb and crumpled to the floor. He could feel the ground underneath him vibrate as the troll's ponderous weight turned back to him. He heard a feminine scream ring through the air before the massive club slammed down onto him from above. The blow impacted with incredible force, Harry's ribs giving away almost instantly as all the air was forced out of his compressed lungs. His body curled up around the club instinctively, slight spasms rocking his extremities. With a grunt weapon was lifted off of him and he fell bonelessly to the ground. His chest burned like it was on fire and grew tighter and tighter as he failed to draw in a breath. The tile had shattered beneath him from the impact and sharp edges now dug into his back easily ripping through his cloak. He drunkenly opened his mouth to call out but was unable to vocalize anything as warm liquid pooled in his throat. He slowly rolled over onto his side ribs protesting the whole way. He was suddenly beset by a small coughing fit that spewed warm blood onto the tile in front of him.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" A female voice shrieked out. Hermione.

'Why didn't she get out?' He moaned internally. He gingerly applied pressure to his chest with his hands and hissed as his ribs screamed in protest. He could hear as Hermione kept up a constant stream of spells. Her voice became progressively more panicked as the troll inexorably made its way towards her. Any attempts at movement were immediately stilled as his body screamed in protest. Hermione's constant chant of incantations devolved into screams that echoed piercingly through the bathroom. Harry raised his head once more in a futile attempt before his body gave out and it slammed back into the tile. A wordless scream of frustration was ripped from his throat, ringing loudly in his ears.

It was met with a wave of incredible heat rushing through his mind, originating from deep inside. It spread rapidly, rushing through his mind and body leaving an intense burning resonance behind. The inferno spiraled through his limbs and reached his fingertips before curling back on itself. His fingers trembled as a pressure built up behind them, seeking an exit. The world exploded into life around him, far sharper and clearer than before. The troll dominated the space, taking up a disproportionate amount of the room. Its arm was raised above its head holding the massive club, hanging in the air over the much smaller form of Hermione who had backed into the wall. Harry snarled and pointed an arm at the beast and noticed that somehow his wand had made its way into his grip. With a wordless shout he pointed the wand and _pushed_. As if a floodgate had been released the raging fire rushed through his arm, out of his tingling fingertips, and blasted out of the wand in a flash of bright light. The club suddenly exploded violently, showering the bathroom with flaming shards of wood. The troll yowled in pain as several pieces cut into its thick hide, driven by the powerful explosion deep into its skin where they slowly smoldered.

Harry rolled his tongue around in his mouth and grimaced at the rich taste of copper. The troll slowly backpedaled from the prostrate Hermione and once more turned towards Harry. With a roar it flung its considerable weight towards him in a wild charge. Harry observed the charging creature with dreamy indifference, not even flinching as the ground shook violently beneath him. The release of power left his head buzzing and an odd tingling in his limbs. It was as if a valve had been released and a blockage had been removed. An odd calm, smooth and cold, drifted over his mind, cocooning him from the dangerous reality. He could see the troll approaching rapidly yet at the same time it seemed an impossible distance away, separated from his dimension entirely. His limbs started moving of their own accord, setting him a counter charge at the beast. They operated separate from his mind, as if from muscle memory like catching a ball. Harry curled up tighter in the cool nest and simply allowed his body to follow its own instructions. He darted forward under the troll's clumsy attempt to grab him and slid between its legs, dragging his wand across one of them in the process. Again he felt more power released through his body and he watched with a spectator's apathy as the rough gray skin of the troll burned bright underneath the tip of the wand before peeling apart releasing streams of black ichor onto the ground. Troll stumbled from the wound and crashed into the already destroyed stalls, further reducing the panels into dust.

Harry skidded on the precarious wet tile, nearly toppling over, before finally finding his footing. He raised his wand absentmindedly. He gave flicked it at the troll and mumbled an unfamiliar word that seemed to come naturally with the motion. A searing orange light burst from the wand and shot towards the troll. The bolt of light slammed viciously into its shoulder before rebounding off and impacting with the wall. The beast gave a cry of surprise as the force of the curse shoved it back down on the ground. The reflected curse hit the wall and promptly blew a sizable hole in it, producing a cloud of debris to blow out over the room.

Harry was once more in motion, his body already racing towards the troll wand held at his side and crackling with magical energy. Once he had cleared most of the distance between them he leaped into the air and slammed into the troll, leading with his knee. The creature rocked back with the impact, allowing Harry to slam his wand into its massive chest like a knife. The glowing stick slid into flesh easily, hot power searing through skin and fat. The troll gave a roar of pain and writhed in agony. The movement broke Harry's grip and he was thrown off its body, leaving behind his wand. He was knocked to the side as the troll barreled past him as it struggled out of the corner he had been forcing it into. Its oversized hands scrabbled uselessly at its chest, lacking the dexterity to remove the object imbedded in its chest.

Harry's face slowly twitched into a grimace that slightly represented a grin. He could feel the hot blood rushing through his veins and the rapid beat of his heart. An excited shiver resonated through his shoulders as an unidentified emotion broke his cocoon of calm causing him to grit his teeth. Power thrummed in his body as he stared at the bleeding troll, urging him to _attack,_ to finish it. His scar throbbed, pulses of heat radiating out to the rest of his body. He swayed on his feet before breaking out into a sprint. Once more he left his feet, leaping into the air onto the troll's broad back. Quickly using its shoulders as handholds he hoisted himself onto it. He wrapped his legs around its head and crossed them over its neck before. clenching them as tight as he could. His hands wrapped around its face pressing onto its eyelids in a desperate search for a grip. Almost immediately the beast lost interest in removing the wand and focused on its dwindling access to air. One hand found purchase on the back of Harry's robes and attempted to pull him off before stopping as the legs tightened around its throat.

The troll in a blind panic starting careening wildly through the bathroom slamming its back into any surface it could find. Harry gritted his teeth into a bloody grimace and tightened his grip around the beast as he was slammed into another wall, leaving a small crater behind him. The ringing in his ears was drowned out by the pounding of blood rushing through him as he felt the troll's throat vibrating uselessly as it attempted to draw in breath. The troll attempted another roar but simply expelled the small amount of air still in its lungs along with pitiful croaking cry. It staggered face first into the mirrors, shattering the rest of them, before falling down

backwards, directly on top of Harry. The breath was instantly ripped from his lungs as the crushing weight pushed down onto him. Blackness slowly creeped into the corners of his vision, his legs relaxing and sliding off the troll's neck. With a last effort his hands reached out and gripped each side of the creature's bulbous head. His arms tensed and tried to start twisting the massive shape. The hot energy rushing through him, coursing to his hands and poured out onto the head. Instead of sinking in, he could feel it being repelled and washing over the sides like a waterfall. He gritted his teeth in concentration as he poured his all into the effort even as darkness slowly took over his mind. His fingertips shook with power as more and more heat built up behind them, sinking into the rough skin of the troll, boiling the flesh beneath them. A loud sizzling filled the air as his fingers dug deep into the troll. He gave a load grunt of exertion and twisted his shoulders sharply. The trolls head twisted with the movement and a loud snap rang out. Instantly the body calmed its thrashing and the head fell to the ground hanging bonelessly.

Adrenaline still coursed furiously through his body, creating a hot rush in his head that almost completely drowned out the enraged professor in front of him. "It may very well be your fault miss Granger but that does not preclude mister Potter from punishment of his almost immeasurable idiocy. What on _Earth_ prompted you to try and fight a troll."

"Hermione was in danger," Harry manage to rasp out. The steady heat circulated his body, the warmth he had been desperately seeking the past year, curling and twisting as it roiled through his body. He smiled as he felt the power seep into his skin, soothing the wounds he received from the troll.

"Are you _smiling_ Mr. Potter? I seriously hope you do not consider this as some sort of successful rescuing of a 'damsel in distress'. You were reckless, idiotic, and displayed that you are lacking more than a small amount of common sense. This kind of behavior will not be encouraged." Harry quickly wiped the smile off his face.

"No I—I'm sorry Professor," Harry swayed heavily on his feet as he tried keep the professors head in sight. The bubbling heat inside of him cooled slightly, and started to dim. Its boiling fingers started to retract from his extremities, leaving behind nerves screaming in pain. "I…" Harry pitched forward and slammed into the stone floor. Hermione and the Professors stared in horror at the growing pool of blood under his body.

"Quickly get him to the hospital wing!"


End file.
